Flight of the Silverbird
by WovenFromMoonlight
Summary: A silvery, humanoid creature shot out of his wand. Surprise momentarily flitted over his features; he wasn't aware he could produce a patronus. The patronus headed towards the front of the class, where it passed through Hermione. When it passed through, she visibly relaxed, almost leaning into the Patronus. Tom's Veela whispered, She's mine.
1. The Beginning

**In Harry Potter canon, being Veela is genetic, as taken from Fleur Delacour, and predominantly female. According to the Harry Potter Fandom Wiki, it is possible for there to be male Veelas, albeit they are part Veela, as shown by Fleur's children.**

**This story is an AU. This story's dates are not symbiont with the technology, dress code, and mannerisms. **

**In this story, the Veela genetics will skip every 4 generations in the Slytherin line, with the most current Veela being Tom Riddle. He will not be a full Veela, but half-Veela. It is never specified on if Veelas need mates, but for this story, we're adding a mate, as this is what this work centers around. For this story, half-Veelas go through a transformation at age 17, where their powers are unleashed. Here, they must find their mate within the next six months, much like full Veelas at their own 17th birthday.**

**Hopefully this will have the story make sense more.**

**Disclaimer: All rights to the characters and canon material belong to J.K. Rowling. All photos used in this story belong to their respective owners.**

**Title is not owned by me. It belongs to Two Steps From Hell.**

* * *

_An Unknown Hospital, Heathgate, England, September 19, 1926_

A newborn's cry rang through the house, and the medical professionals immediately took the child, and swiftly cut the umbilical cord. Some of the nurses whisked away to clean the infant, and the others bustled around helping the young Dr. Granger deal with the aftermath of giving birth. Cool towels were pressed to the new mother's forehead, while the they whispered comforting words.

"Here, take this," a nurse whispered. A dose of liquid medicine was swallowed by the young Dr. Granger, "This will help with the pain."

The patient shuddered slightly, as slowly, her vision cleared to bright lights, sterile white colored objects everywhere, and the pulsing pain lessened.

A soft, warm bundle of pink blankets were placed in young Dr. Granger's embrace, and she looked upon her child for the first time. She was still crying, but as the mother held the daughter, the cries lessened.

"Are you alright, my love?" the other Dr. Granger took his side by his wife, his eyes soft at the sight before him.

"Her name can't be what we decided on before. She can't be Ophelia," the new mother murmured, "She is going to be Hermione."

* * *

_London, Wool's Orphanage, December 31, 1926_

Merope Gaunt's screams receded, and were quickly replaced by a baby's cry. Merope sighed in relief, her body relaxing into the pillows, despite the throbbing pain in her nether regions. Her eyes closed, wishing to rest. A snap was heart, and then the soft splish-splash of the water soothed her. She heard her baby stop crying, and she opened her eyes to her baby being gently placed into her arms. He was a beautiful child; she could already tell he inherited the features of his father.

He already had a poof of soft curly hair on his head, and his dark blue-grey slate eyes stared into hers, a soft innocent shine that only babies had. Merope eyes misted, _he's already so much like his father, I just hope he'll turn out to be a better person._

"Tom, for his father. Marvolo, for my father. Riddle, for his father," Merope whispered. Her vision flickered. Something wasn't right. She felt weak, weaker than ever. She could barely hold Tom in her arms, "Tom Marovlo Riddle will be his name," Merope forced herself to look at the matron who sat next to her, "Please. Take him."

With those last words, Merope passed. Her already dim eyes dulled. Her eyelids, halfway in blinking, stayed there. The matron heard her last breath, and the young woman's body slumped down to the farthest she had ever seen. The baby resting in her arms didn't cry, but snuggled into his mother's embrace more, fast asleep.

* * *

_The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England, March 4th, 1926, Three Days After Ron's Birth_

"Mummy-" Fred started.

"Is that-" George continued.

"Our new brother?" They finished together.

"He looks-"

"Really much like-"

"A tomato-"

"With hair!" The twins laughed, and stumbled over to where their mother was holding another baby.

"No, Fred, George," Molly Weasley sighed, "This is Ronald, or Ron for short. Ronald Billus Weasley," the Weasley matriarch finished proudly.

"Can we call him Ronnie-"

"Or Ickle Ronniekins?" Fred giggled, and the two round faced boys ran off to their room.

* * *

_Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, July 1st, 1926_

"Merlin Lily, I've never seen you this pissed off before," Sirius teased. His words earned a death glare from Lily, who was on the verge of cussing with the pains of childbirth.

"Mr. Black! Please refrain from making jibes at a witch in labour!" the midwife chided, also shooting him a look. Sirius merely shrugged, and shut up, a Marauder's grin still on his face. Lily screamed, and the midwife exclaimed that the head was crowning.

James darted out of the room, in a panicked state, "I'll be back in a moment Lily."

"James Fleamont Potter don't you dare leave the room!" Lily shrieked. James slowly slipped into the room again, his face paler than before, his forehead beaded with sweat.

"Hey Jamesy, you alright in there?" Remus poked his head in, after hearing Lily's order, and James running back in.

"He's fine, he's fine," Sirius clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Lily screamed again, and the mediwitch encouraged her to push. James' eyes roved back to his wife, whose face was now streaked with tears. He couldn't move, or look away, just stood, frozen with fear. He snapped awake when he heard a cry, the healthy cry of a healthy child.

"It's a boy!" Sirius cried. Remus opened the door, where Sirius was jumping up and down, and James was sitting, breathing heavily.

"I'm so glad this is over," James mumbled, "I'm never going to get Lily pregnant again."

The new father looked up, where he saw Lily holding a screaming newborn. He was clean, but still screaming.

"Harry. Harry James Potter," Lily declared. Sirius laughed, and asked what pretentious arse names their kid after themselves.

"Language, Mr. Black!" the midwife scolded, and turned to Lily, "Congratulations Mrs. Potter," and bustled off, taking all her medical supplies.

"James, come over here," the mother sounded tired, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Better not mess this one up mate, this one's all on you," Sirius pushed James towards his family.

* * *

**This wraps up the Prologue! I think this story will be pretty short, maybe 5-6 ish chapters around 40 pages.**

**Oh and by the way this is unedited, so if I made any mistakes, please tell me. Constructive criticism is always welcome as well.**

**Next chapter should be up within the next few days**

**~WovenFromMoonlight~~**


	2. Amour Mystique

**Disclaimer: All rights to the characters and canon material belong to J.K. Rowling. All photos used in this story belong to their respective owners.**

**Title is not owned by me. It belongs to Two Steps From Hell.**

**Other information in the first chapter.**

**One last note. I used google translate in this chapter, I don't know how well this was translated, so pleasepleasedontkillmeforthatiswearidontknowwhatelsetodo….**

* * *

_Head's Quarters, Hogwarts, December 31, 1943_

Tom Riddle knelt over in pain, his forehead beaded with sweat. His hands dug into the silk comforter that rested on his bed. His features, normally passive and expressionless, were twisted in an unmistakable expression of pain.

_Lord Voldemort doesn't kneel,_ his mind spat in disgust as he came to realize his position, _They kneel to Lord Voldemort._

A groan escaped his lips. The pain was blinding. Dull, blunk, thick needles were being stabbed into every inch of his skin. His skin was being cut away from his body, tiny sliver by tiny sliver. His blood was on fire. It was too much… It had to stop.

Gritting his teeth, Tom stood up, and managed to crawl into bed, despite the pain getting worse. Spots clouded his vision every time he tried to sit up.

_Oh Merlin, where is my wand?_

He fumbled around his robes, and pulled out his wand, and with shaking hands, he pointed it towards his cabinets.

"Acci-accio pain reliever potion," Tom coughed. He set down his wand, and a bottle flew into his hands. The 17 year old wizard tried to sit up, succeeded, and took shaky sips of the potion. After taking the correct dosage, he slumped down, placing the concoction next to his wand. Tom closed his eyes, and his body promptly set him to sleep.

There he lay, his robes spread out, and limbs in a disarray.

Close to midnight, a glow enveloped his body, and it lifted him up. An orb of bright light orbited his body once, before he was thrown back in bed. The ball of light passed through his door, and out into the corridor, where it floated about, searching.

The next morning, Tom woke up with an all-too-familiar stirring in his groin. If it was a normal morning, he would have just let it be, after all, the voluminous Hogwarts robes hid it very well.

This morning however, he wanted to deal with it himself. He wanted to jack off.

_You've been starved of pleasure_, a voice whispered, _take this opportunity._

Of course, Tom has taken girls. They had been embarrassingly easy to charm into bed, and even more embarrassingly easy to _Obliviate._ Who, at his age, wouldn't be curious about the pleasures of a human body?

Many girls in Hogwarts weren't easy on the eyes. Tom's lip would curl in distaste at the sight of the girls. Everytime a girl would catch sight of him, they would put an extra sway in their walk to appear sexy. They would slow down their movements, and attempt at a seductive smile. When they'd speak to him, they'd lower their voice in an endeavor to be alluring. They would bat their lashes, and use his first name for a sense of familiarity. They would occasionally run their fingers down his arm, casting him puppy eyes.

Internally, he'd sneer in disgust. He wanted to bat away the wandering hands, to teach them a lesson about what _not_ to do around Lord Voldemort. But he wouldn't. He would smile through it, pretend like he didn't notice, or occasionally act flustered if they were working alone.

Tom mechanically sat up from bed, his eyes suddenly flaring as pain pulsed through his body.

_Bloody fantastic._

The Slytherin head boy took slow, deep breaths as he walked towards the shower in his room, hoping he had enough time for a warm soak before heading to the library. The clock chimed 7:30, and the library wouldn't open until 8:30.

The library was empty, even more so than usual. Only the sound heard continuously were the sounds of the librarian dusting off the books. The harsh winds were muted, but one could hear them if they got close enough to the windows.

Normally, Tom would head to the Restricted Section, scouring each book there for information that would help with his rise. Many times, he would be annoyed with the lack of useable information he had, but he kept on going. Tom longed to find a way into Headmaster Dippet's private book collection, where he believed there were countless books of priceless information, books that were banned from the Hogwarts library centuries ago. Books that were written by Merlin, one of the greatest dark lords. Herpo the Foul. _Salazar Slytherin himself._

Today, however, he was drawn to the magical creature section, running his fingertips along the spines of the musty old books that lay there, untouched. Tom slowly made his way down the aisle, trailing to the books written in other languages.

"Amour Mystique," Tom murmured, "pour les transformés. Interesting. A book in French."

Something about the book spoke to him, called him to read. He pulled it out of the shelf, and headed over to his favorite spot for reading.

To his surprise, the French words shimmered into English once opened. Upon immediately seeing a long note from the author, he jumped to the table of contents, his finger running vertically along with his line of vision.

_Chapter 1: Basics To Veelas_

_Chapter 2: Half Veela's and their Transformation _

_\- Male Veelas_

_Chapter 3: Other Veelas_

_Chapter 4: Veela Magic and Anger Transformation_

_Chapter 5: Mates_

"... Just stop bothering me! It's a perfectly alright time to study and read." an annoyed voice floated into Tom's ears, in turn irritating him too. He looked up, and he saw a very annoyed Head Girl speaking to a prefect.

_Weasley, naturally, bothering people_, Tom remarked in his head, _He, as a prefect, should understand what it means to achieve good grades._

A small, nagging voice reminded him the redhead was only chosen because Granger was picked as Head Girl.

"But 'Mione," Ron whined, before being interrupted by Granger.

"Don't 'Mione' me Ronald! Leave me to being in the library." she said sharply. Weasley started to speak again, but he was stopped when he spotted Tom in the background.

_Great._

"It's because he's here right?" Weasley sneered.

"Who's here? I'm not here..." Granger turned around to see Tom sitting in the spot she occasionally occupied, "Oh hello Riddle."

He nodded curtly, and turned his attention to Ron, "You, as prefect, should understand the Head Girl is to maintain her status as a model student, as having the privilege of being a prefect is to maintain good grades. Instead of bugging someone of higher status to do… Trivial things, I suggest you follow her example, and study when there is time."

His ears turned bright red, and he sputtered out, "But it's Christmas holidays!"

"Ronald just leave." she cut in. Once he left, the air suddenly became charged with tension, but it wasn't bad. As Tom stared at the Head Girl slowly scanning the books in the aisle, he felt a strong blood rush to his wood. It was starting to rise to attention, but the robes he donned disguised his erection.

_Chapter 5: Mates_

Tom thought about how ridiculous it would be, to have someone like Granger as his mate. Stuck up, prudish, and a know-it-all Gryffindor.

A small voice began talking in his head, _You know, _I _wouldn't mind having Granger as my mate. She's pretty enough, and who knows what would be under those robes._

Tom discreetly watched as she went to the next aisle, and came back moments later, sitting in the other corner of the space. He studied her face, realizing he rarely made eye contact with someone who worked very closely with him, who shared a common room with him.

To the younger Riddle, a heart-shaped face, chocolate brown eyes, healthy, curly dark brunette hair, and soft, creamy skin was attractive enough.

But how could she, someone who didn't kill, or hurt for fun, someone pure from the ever growing pit of darkness, be a good mate to someone who killed or hurt for fun? Someone consumed by an ever growing pit of darkness?

**This finishes it up for this chapter. Thank you for those who reviewed, followed, or added to favorites!**

**This story is unbetaed, also known as unedited, so let me know if there are any mistakes. Constructive critisicsm is always welcome.**

**Next chapter should be up within the next few days.**

**~~WovenFromMoonlight~~**


	3. Guardian: Part 1

**Disclaimer: All rights to the characters and canon material belong to J.K. Rowling. All photos used in this story belong to their respective owners.**

**Title is not owned by me. It belongs to Two Steps From Hell.**

**Other information in the first chapter.**

**Oh yeah, I lied about the length and the amount of chapters for this story. I'm probably going to end up writing more, but don't hold your breath!**

* * *

_Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, Hogwarts, January 10, 1944_

"The Patronus Charm is a spell used to repel dementors, and lethifolds, taking the form of a silvery-white animal. It is notoriously difficult, and very difficult to master. The exact form of a Patronus isn't determined until the caster drawn enough magic, and a powerful happy memory, and the form is symbiont with the caster's personality. It is rare to have a Patronus take form of a well known magical creature, such as a dragon or a phoenix. The form of a Patronus can also change after a drastic life changing event.

"A Patronus can only be cast by people of purer souls, and sometimes a witch or wizard of questionable morals can cast a corporeal Patronus. The Patronus can also act as a messenger between wizards, and the creature can bypass wards. It will not reveal the message until it reaches the intended recipient. The incantation for this charm is _Expecto Patronum_." Hermione summarized. Harry whispered she needed to shorten her explanations,

"Very good, Miss Granger. Take 10 points for Gryffindor." Professor Merrythought smiled, and turned to the rest of the class, "For the next week, we will be working on the Patronus Charm, and there will be no homework, as this charm is already extremely taxing. This does not mean you get to slack off. If you don't produce a corporeal Patronus, an incorporeal one is acceptable."

Immediately, Tom raised his hand, and the class all looked over at him, wondering how he, the master at everything, could have a question.

"Professor, Gr-Hermione stated if takes a powerful happy memory to produce a Patronus. What if," Tom hesitated for the slightest moment, "What if you don't have any happy memories?"

Hermione suddenly snapped her eyes at him, realizing he wasn't miffed about not having happy memories, but failing.

"That, Mr Riddle, I'm not sure about; It's never been specified. Just do what you can," Professor Merrythought was concerned for one of her star students. How has he, Tom Riddle, the king of Slytherin, not have any happy memories? Surely his first O on an essay or project should suffice… Right? The elderly professor flicked her wand, sending all the chairs and desks against the walls of the classroom.

The room was suddenly filled with voices shouting '_Expecto Patronum_', and the occasional silver smoke would be pushed out of someone's wand. The class slowly fell silent, for no reason at all, and Hermione broke the silence.

She concentrated on getting her Hogwarts letter, arriving, and feeling a strange sort of tension every time she worked with Tom. The latter memory wasn't intentional, it was just there.

"Expecto patronum," Hermione whispered. A silvery animal darted out of her wand, an otter, and it bounded around her, playing. The room was perfectly warm, and she felt joy, safety, contentment. As she reached her hand to touch the Patronus, it disappeared. The lingering effects were still there, and the class looked in shock.

Clapping erupted amongst the students, except for the Slytherins, who all looked at Tom, waiting for his reaction. His face remained impassive, and internally, he was mildly surprised.

"Blimey 'Mione! That was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, and threw his arm around her shoulders. Hermione flushed, and grinned, before trying to coach her friends.

* * *

Tom felt a surge of white hot anger, at realizing the Gryffindor princess succeed when he didn't. When he looked over at her, his anger dissipated, and his mood softened. Why shouldn't he be proud of his mate?

_My what?_

Tom mentally shrugged, and went on trying. Over and over again, silver whisps shot out of his wand, but never a complete form. He quietly sighed, tugging his bag over his shoulder as he made his way over to the Head Girl.

"Miss Granger, would it be possible for you to help me with this charm after dinner?" Tom didn't mean to say this, or interact with the girl outside of Head/Prefect duties. Surprise flitted over her features.

"So it is true," someone behind her huffed. Weasley got smacked by a muggle notebook.

"I suppose it'll be alright. Meet me by the seventh floor corridor after dinner," Hermione said slowly. She left him standing there, and he made his way to dinner.

* * *

Tom was waiting by the seventh floor corridor, standing perfectly still, waiting for the lioness.

"Why are we here?" he asked abruptly to the witch pacing.

"The Come and Go room. Go inside." Hermione guestured for him to walk inside.

"The Room of Requirement?" his eyes widened. This is what he'd been searching for, and it was handed to him on a silver platter.

"Are you going in or not?" she raised an eyebrow. Normally, Tom would have been annoyed and punished her since they were alone, but he couldn't. He shed his outer robe, and immediately, a coat rack appeared, where he deposited it. It was much more freeing, and he pulled his wand out of his sleeve pocket.

Tom looked over at the witch who was waiting for him to be oriented. His eyes suddenly raked her body, wanting to see what he had before him. Without the sweater and the outer robe, her soft curves were exposed. The white button up was sheerer than he realized, and it gave a slight hint of her black bralette, which covered up smaller breasts than average. Her skirt showed off her legs, despite being mostly covered up by grey stockings.

Tom snapped out of it, and they began to work together, or rather, Hermione instructed Tom.

_When did I start referring to her as Hermione?_

Gradually, his wispy silver smoke turned into more silvery-white beams of light, each time becoming stronger as he focused on her presence.

His Veela growled in approval as he caught the scent of her hair. It was raspberries and vanilla, and his Veela gew aroused at this, inturning making Tom too.

"Er.. Rid-Tom, patrols will start in 5 minutes." Hermione's voice pulled him out of his concentration. They silently gathered their things, and made their way to the door. His Veela, suddenly aware of her close proximity, invaded his mind, merging them into one.

Tom reached out to Hermione, and grabbed her wrists. He pushed her into the wall, and his arousal throbbed, straining against the fabric of his trousers. Her eyes were fearful, darkened, and her face was flushed, her lips parted slightly. Tom's eyes zeroed onto her lips. They looked soft, and were plump, with a soft red hue to it.

His Veela surged forwards, and he captured her lips in a searing kiss. He pressed against her, holding her hands above him with one hand, and his other slowly made it's decent down her side and around her waist.

Her lips responded to his, moving in sync, and the kiss became heated, demanding. Tom pushed his tongue into her mouth, greedily exploring, then moving to dance with hers. Slowly, his Veela allowed him to let go of her wrists, where he placed his other hand on her chest, slowly moving in circles. Tom started to nibble at her lower lip, then to tear his lips from hers to slowly suck, kiss, and bite her neck. His tongue caressed her pulse point, and he tasted vanilla on her skin.

Hermione didn't seem to react badly to his advances, much to his surprise, and a noise flew from her lips, sounded very similar to his name. This spurred his advances further, and he trailed one hand down to pull her legs around his waist, where he could surely feel how much he wanted her.

She obliged, and he momentarily ground against her. Tom could feel the heat coming from her core, and suddenly, his Veela started to withdraw. He kissed his way up her neck back to her lips, where he softly kissed her, and let her legs fall onto solid ground.

Hermione pulled back from the kiss, and pushed him away.

"Yo-you're a Veela, and I'm... Oh Merlin, what..." Hermione whispered fearfully. She pulled out her wand, and cast a few glamours, before running off, leaving Tom to ponder what the fuck just happened.

As Tom walked his patrols, he asked himself why he did that. He shouldn't have pounced on her. He shouldn't force her into something she didn't want. Veela feelings forbade that.

But why, then why did his Veela take over him in that manner.

"Five points from Ravenclaw, Olive. Don't be out of bed at night." he could hear her voice near the Head's quarters. He hurried over, hoping to catch her. He entered the common room, where she was nowhere to be seen.

Tom sighed, and looked down at his still pulsing problem.

* * *

That kiss felt wonderful, even as she ran away from him. Why did she react to him? Even if she became his mate, she couldn't have reacted so strongly.

When she wrapped her legs around him, she could feel his hardness, how he wanted her. She had wanted him too. When he bit her neck at her pulse point, she had almost moaned his name, but bit it back.

Her core was still flooded with warmth, and she wanted him. But it just felt wrong. When she sensed Tom's magic near her again, near the Head's quarters, she ran into her room, putting up a ward to prevent him from coming in if he tried. Granted, he'd make it past, but she had to try.


	4. Guardian: Part 2

Days passed with very little interaction between the Head Boy and Head Girl, and the week drew near. It was that Friday, January 14th of 1944 when something interesting happened.

In Defense, only Hermione had been able to produce a Patronus, and with the permission of Professor Merrythought, she walked around, and tried to help people.

Tom looked over at Hermione the precise moment her robes were shifted to the side, and he caught a glimpse of her curves again. He clenched his teeth when he felt him arousing once again. He wanted her, he needed her or he'd die.

When the events of last night entered his mind, he raised his want.

"Expecto Patronum," Tom whispered. A silvery, humanoid creature shot out of his wand. Surprise momentarily flitted over his features; he wasn't aware he could produce a patronus.

The patronus headed towards the front of the class, where it passed through Hermione. When it passed through, she visibly relaxed, almost leaning into the Patronus.

Tom's Veela whispered, _She's mine._

Unlike what they did for Hermione, no one clapped, saved his Knights. Tom subtly waved his wand. Clifford Mulciber winced, the scar on his back flaring up in pain. He sent a small smirk in his direction.

The Knights will meet again.

* * *

"My lord, what should we do about the girl?" Fabian Avery asked upon entering.

"Who is this girl you speak of?" Tom's face yielded no emotion.

"The Mudblood, Granger," Avery immediately replied. His lord turned his passive, but powerful glare to Avery's kneeling form.

"She is not a threat to our goals. She won't have anything to do with us. But I will hear you out." Tom nonverbally conjured a couch behind him, and sat, waiting for the kneeling Knight's explanation.

"Her outspoken voice has already caused Abraxas' father, Septimus Malfoy, to be defective. She's becoming too powerful too quickly, and being Dumbledore's favorite, has already assumed the existence of this group. Last week, she harshly interrogated Vinda Rosier for information about us," Avery explained, his voice shaking.

Tom frowned slightly. It wasn't in her nature to 'harshly interrogate' someone; her Gryffindor sense of 'right' and 'wrong' wouldn't allow that. Her personality didn't yield very much, being the stubborn lioness she was.

Tom stood up, and looked at each one of his Knights.

Benjamin Lestrange.

Lloyd Nott.

Abraxas Malfoy.

Fabian Avery.

Edmund Rosier.

Clifford Mulciber.

All the boys hailed from powerful, influential families, and their names were slowly losing prominence, as new ideas were being adopted.

"Keep an eye on the girl, but do not be obvious about it. I expect owled reports every two days. Edmund stay behind." Tom ordered. His Knights were trained well.

"Manage your sister better. If a weak link is found through your bloodline, I will not be merciful." Tom pulled out his long, slender yew wand, "_Cruio_. "

Edmund Lestrange's screams echoed in the Chamber. Once Tom lifted the curse, the Lestrange boy scrambled off.

Tom turned to the stone carving of his ancestor, and spoke in Parseltongue, "_Come to me, basilisk. I will finish the work of my noble forefathers."_

The basilisk slithered out, it's head obediently turned away for the safety of his master.

That night, Myrtle Elizabeth Warren was found dead.

* * *

"_Meet me in the Room of Requirement after patrols._"

Hermione held the note in her hand, shaking. Her body was telling her to go, but her mind was telling her to stay away from him.

_Remember what he did to you that night_, a naughty voice in her head whispered. With a blush, she recalled the feeling of his lips on hers. They were sinfully soft, and the way he would loop his tongue around hers… Hermione shuddered. With a jolt, she was suddenly reminded she figured out he would forever be a Veela, and the only reason she reacted to him this way is because she's his mate.

Hermione checked her watch, and it told her that her patrols ended. Hermione hurried over to the Room, her heart pounding erratically. Upon reaching the wall, the room slid open, and was greeted by a warm, cozy sight. A large couch sat in front of a merrily crackling fireplace. Tom was sitting on the right side, staring into the fireplace. Hermione sat down next to him, silently, crossing her legs.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," his velvety, rich voice now had a huskier undertone to it. Tom turned to face her, and to her surprise, his normally blue-grey slate eyes had a purple tint to it. It was clear to Hermione it wasn't him speaking.

She was captivated by his eyes, which were staring into hers. The tension in the air started to fizzle to life, and slowly, Tom pulled Hermione closer to him.

"I'm sorry about what I did. I didn't mean to scare you," Tom whispered against her ear. It was now very clear it wasn't him in control.

"I…" Hermione shifted to face him, and now, their lips would be a breath away if she tilted her head upwards, "Am I truly your mate?"

She could feel his arousal, which was slowly rising up with her closeness. Hermione could feel herself mirroring it. Veela pheromones were being released so much she felt her mind cloud.

_Keep a mind clear of anything that might disrupt logical thinking_, Hermione's brain was working overdrive.

"I don't want to force you into anything. Understandably, we'd die if I don't mark you, but having Veela feelings prevents me from forcing you into anything," Tom pulled her close to him.

_Definitely not him._

"Once I agree, I can't come back out," Hermione responded, her voice muffled by his robes, "But if I don't agree, we'd die. I…"

Hermione's body was reacting very strangely to his presence. She was screaming yes in her mind, but she couldn't say it. The pheromones calmed down, and a melancholy feeling settled over her. Tom must have sensed it, because he pulled her closer.

"I'll do it," Hermione suddenly blurted out, after what seemed like an eternity. She was prepared for an onslaught about her stupid decision from the other side of her mind, but she didn't recieve any berating. Silence hug between them, even in their tight embrace.

Tom's lips brushed her forehead, "I'm glad you chose yes."

_This isn't what Tom would say, this is what the Veela would say._

Tom shifted himself, so Hermione was lying on top of him on the couch. As the night increased, the fire dimmed itself. Soon, it winked out with the notion they both feel asleep.

* * *

The next morning Hermione woke up in a panic. She wasn't in her dorm, and her uniform was all rumpled.

And there was someone underneath her. And was hugging her.

"Shhh… Relax love," a voice whispered in her ear.

_It's just Tom, it's fine._

"Tom…?" Hermione opened her eyes, mumbling in her groggy state.

"Aren't you the most responsive this morning," Tom smirked.

"I'm going to sleep again," Hermione declared in her sleepy state. She buried herself farther into Tom's embrace.

She felt his chest rumble with his soft chuckle, "Alright, but remember, its nearly 8 in the morning right now."

Hermione immediately sprang up from her position, "Well in that case, I'm heading to my dorm."

She darted off, leaving Tom alone in the Room once again.

* * *

Tom entered the Great Hall with his hand clasped in his mate's, and he kissed her temple before striding over to the Slytherin table. Hermione, with a smile painted on her face, headed towards where her two best friends were sitting.

"Mione, what the fuck was that?" Ron demanded rudely.

"What was what?" Hermione questioned quizzically.

"Riddle!"

A cross look crossed her face, "What's wrong with Tom?"

"Tom?!" Ron exploded then, "Listen Mione, he's a slimey good for nothing snake and you are not allowed to date him, is that clear?"

"Why are you telling me who I can and cannot date? Who said we were dating anyways?" Hermione snapped, happy demeanor all gone.

"Mione-"

"Don't you dare 'Mione' me Ronald!"

"Hermione, listen-" Ron started, but was cut off.

"Hermione, Ron's right," Harry interrupted softly, "He has been a complete arsehole for the past 7 years, and you can't just ignore that and date him."

"I'm not dating him. He hasn't been an arse to me for the past 7 years, and he hasn't done anything wrong to us."

"I bet the only reason you're with him is because he's forced you to ingest a love potion-"

"Ronald don't you dare finish this sentence!"

"-and he's good in bed, but I'm better!"

"Ronald Billus Weasley did you just-" Hermione nearly shrieked.

A cold voice came from behind Hermione, "-Proposition the Head Girl?" Hermione looked up and saw Tom standing behind her, with one of his hands on her shoulder, the thumb of that hand small circles on the bottom of her neck. From what she could see, his eyes were tinted purple.

Ron jumped up from where he sat, and drew his wand.

"Mr Weasley put your wand down," Tom said coldly, "If you don't I'll dock points from Gryffindor."

"Release her now!" Harry suddenly stood up, "I'll report you to Dumbledore for illegal use of a love potion."

"I didn't use one. Hermione is with me of her own will," Tom responded, "10 points from Gryffindor."

"Tom, let's go," Hermione stood up, grabbed her bag, and left the Hall with Tom by her side, "There's still an hour before classes and I need to talk to you."

* * *

"I swear if they touch on hair on your head-"

"Tom don't speak like that," Hermione implored, "It's not you."

"You're right, it's my Veela speaking through," Tom pulled Hermione closer to him, "Regardless if it's him or not, I will still protect you, be your guardian."

*****PLEASE READ*****

**Before I move on, I want to say thank you to everyone who favorited and followed, it means a lot to me!**

**One of the biggest things I noticed when writing this is I rushed the storyline, and didn't balance out Tom and Hermione with their outside life, so I tried to push that together, but I didn't do a good job of it, so please bear with me. As of this point, this story will mostly revolve around Tom and Hermione's journey as mates, as there is no way I can fix it to be more balanced without changing everything.**

**WovenFromMoonlight**


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